Blind Eyes, Black Hearts
by WindsonRun
Summary: In 2004, Five British-American Special Operatives from Joint Special Operations Task Force 105 are tasked to observe a dangerous meeting between two terrorist cells. What they are to find there, would change their lives forever.
1. Prologue

_Captain Robert "Rodent" Wolfe_

_22. SAS / Task Force 105_

_1100 Hours, June 2008_

_Camp George, Helmand Province, Afghanistan_

**Captain Wolfe** lied on the bed in his darkened room. The curtains were closed and the lights were off with his laptop the only thing enlightening his room. He was tired. It had been a while since his last combat op and in that spare time he had returned home to England for three months on leave; but still. He was tired.

The war in Afghanistan had been waging on for seven years with neither side having the right to claim victory. The Taliban and Al-Qaeda constantly target civilian and Coalition military centres, and in retaliation, the coalition, consisting of the US, Britain, Germany, and its allies, continuously wash out and eliminated Taliban bases and nests nationwide, taking down multiple Al-Qaeda personnel on the way. But bombs kept exploding, innocent civilians died, terror continued… And that wasn't only in Afghanistan. Terrorist attacks in the US, Britain, Europe, and all over the world continued frequently and got worse as the war raged on. _How could we possibly stop this?_ Wolfe didn't know. And he was tired of thinking, and lied on his bed instead.

It was a private room, an officer's quarters. He lived alone here in this room in Camp George, a forward base in Afghanistan's hot Helmand Province. He had a family back home: a wife and two kids in London, but he had left them for the sake of serving his country, and he terribly missed them at times. He was given a choice after serving for more than five years in the SAS: to return to his family or continue serving. He chose to serve, and so now he was here. Serving.

A laptop, his laptop, was put on the room's desk next to his notebook and Browning Hi-Power Pistol. His laptop opened several tabs containing news articles involving the ongoing War on Terror. One said that another attack had taken place on mainland United States; The next one was saying that the War in Afghanistan is a complete waste of time; Another was 'London Bus Bomb casualty toll goes over 80'.

And another one, this time a video put on YouTube by a liberal American blogger, entitled '**Afghanistan War - Inconclusive?**'

The video played after it took several seconds to buffer.

The man who spoke was an Asian-American in his late 20s, who was obviously a liberal who, in Wolfe's opinion, think he's the smartest guy in the world. He was a cocky piece of Asian liberal schmuck who thinks everything could be solved by means other than war. _If it wasn't for war, your country would've been nothing but shit. _The video had gained a considerably huge amount of views on the channel: mounting up around three million by the time he opened it.

"Actually, _What_, is the Coalition doing in Afghanistan?" the point of the video was the Asian man talking about his _shit_ opinions. "Fight? Fight what? Terrorists? And the entire world is still facing bombs- not in Afghanistan, but in the Homeland regions of Europe and America."

"I don't think the war in the Middle-East is helping anyone. No one. Osama Bin Laden is still on the loose. The War in Afghanistan is a complete waste of time and resources. Yes we did lose two-thousand innocent men, women, and children on nine-one-one but this? It's completely unnecesary…" and the liberal blogger continued his speech and Wolfe scorned it.

He hated it. He hated all those people who misunderstood and scorned soldiers; scorned heroes that were dying every day merely to protect those they hold dearly. These ungrateful bastard-heathens, Wolfe thought. Good men died everyday to make them safe, but instead, they do this? Countless Taliban and possible Al-Qaeda die by being hunted down or shot in firefights every week, and with the loss of those personnel, the smaller the chance something like nine-eleven would take place again.

We are the winning side, the winning side that always wins, and were expected to win- the team everybody hated because the game always went their way; but look at who was scorning them in this 'sport': Their very own fans. Their very own, godforsaken, fans. It was disgusting, Wolfe thought, and they always think soldiers as warmongers and racists. _They don't understand the noble sacrifice we're making. We're doing this for the safety of our homes_. The laptop's screen flashed as the man in the screen gestured and moved and talked. Suddenly somebody knocked on the door. "Fucking liberals." Wolfe said. He was a tall, brown-haired, strong man who, like most special operatives, liked to maintain a well-shaven beard. He was getting annoyed by the very unthoughtful rants of the liberal speaker, and so he got off his bed and went over to the laptop. He closed the laptop, and suddenly, somebody knocked on the door.

"Captain Wolfe?" an American, it was, Wolfe judged from the voice. He didn't reply.

"Rodent?" The same man called out from the door.

In a split second voices of the past came into his head. Rodent was a name his friends called him when he first got into the SAS, and people continued to call him until now. The memory was still very clear in his head. The smell of burnt flesh and the shouts and screams of pain from the mouths of American soldiers, as they burned in an inhumane and unearthly inferno; the decimating White Phosphorus that burned human skin as if it were fire burning rubber. It took him back to that day.

Where it happened.


	2. Chapter 1 - Part 1

**CHAPTER 1**

_Captain Robert "__**Rodent**__" Wolfe_

_22. Special Air Service / Task Force 105_

_1755 Hours_

_Winter, 2004_

_Jalalabad Outskirts, Afghanistan_

**The** city of Jalalabad in Afghanistan was not a safe place, especially during nighttime. Thugs were here and there, looters went through the city's war-torn suburbs, scavenging merchandise from dead bodies that now, had decomposed and became only a stack of arranged bones and rotten flesh. But on one night in the winter of 2004, not only looters and thugs were crawling amongst the rubbles of the great housing suburb. In 2004 the War on Terror was at its peak: The Coalition faced heavy fighting against both insurgents and the Iraqi army in Iraq, while continuously fighting the relentless Taliban in Afghanistan. And this evening, the two asymmetric forces would clash yet again in this particular suburb.

A detachment of five men under Captain Robert Wolfe, mostly known by his colleagues as 'Rodent', were landed by helicopter two days ago in the outskirts of the city of Jalalabad to intercept a very important, if not a dangerous, meeting held by the enemies of the Coalition. They have been briefed that their targets, three important men to the terrorist cause, were to meet up tonight, in the ruins of a hotel that went bankrupt decades ago when the Russians invaded the country. Their intent, according to the briefing of his team, Alpha Six, was an arms trade involving an Iraqi Ba'athist, a Taliban cell leader, and of course, an official of Al-Qaeda. And there was a large possibility, that it involved Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Weeks ago, US Navy SEALs had intercepted and taken captive a supposed-Taliban messenger, who, after a long and tiring questioning process told his American captors that there was a meeting in this particular ruin of a hotel complex in the outskirts of Jalalabad. He was supposed to bring this information towards a man known by his colleagues as Omar Ataf, an obvious essential and high-ranking member of Al-Qaeda. The team's purpose of coming here was to observe whether this meeting was true or not, and if it was, a Quick Reaction Force consisting of men from the US Army Rangers and Navy SEALs would be called in by Captain Wolfe. The QRF, along with Alpha Six, were tasked to capture- or if it was impossible, kill- the three members of the meeting. It would be another triumph for the Coalition if another essential 'terrorist' was killed or captured, and if there really was this Ba'athist, Rodent thought, it would be proof that Iraq had WMDs at hand, and they were not only keeping it to themselves, but also, distributing it to their 'allies' (most importantly, enemies of the coalition).

Rodent and his team set themselves up in observation posts within two five-story buildings, ranging one hundred meters from each other with a large courtyard set between it. Rodent was posted with the two American members of Alpha Six, namely Velcro and Chuc, while his 2IC, Sergeant Gaz Hemingway, was posted with Ark on the other building.

Rodent put his back on a wall in a room where he and two of his men had hid, slept, ate, and observed for the last two days and nights. There was a large breach in the wall that overlooked the entire courtyard. Other than the large breach in the wall, the room still had a sufficient bed and discolored curtains and walls which were now plagued by dust and sand. He relaxed as he saw the fading sun, and it reminded him of his villa in Kent.

Earlier that day there were two suspicious-looking men entering the area without escort or weapons and stupidly they spoke loudly enough for Rodent to hear it. They said that the three targets were to come tonight; What time, Rodent did not know, so he told his men to rest.

For when night fell, the enemy would come.

"We'll need a great deal of looking tonight, so I want you lads to get some shut eye." He told his men via radio.

He led five men. His Second-in-Command, Gaz and Ark, were sniper and spotter respectively. Both hailed from the British Special Air Service and were hidden neatly in the other building. The two men with him, SFC 'Chuc' Lewis and SFC Steve 'Velcro' Ewart, were both delta operators and were absolutely masters at their fields. Sergeant Lewis, preferably Chuc by his friends, was a combat medic, and undoubtedly one of the best in the army. He enlisted for Delta Force after serving four years with the 75th Rangers, and when he went in he quickly gained promotion from a mere Sergeant to Staff Sergeant and finally, Sergeant First Class, mostly due to his skills as a medic and gallantry in combat. He had served countless times for his country, sabotaging Iraqi defences before the invasion, taking down insurgent cells in Kandahar, and was too present during the epic Battle of Takur Ghar in Operation Anaconda along with his close friend SFC Ewart.

Ewart was Velcro to his friends, and he could be described as a short, robust, man with perfect-sighted eyes, a straight nose, and blond hair. His looks make up for his height, which was roughly five foot six, that made him barely pass the height test get into Delta. He was the combat engineer in the team, and whenever anybody needed something being blown up, he would easily jump into fire, run, slide, and put in whatever explosives he had at his disposal to ruin the enemy. The reason of him being called Velcro was that he admired the new very sticky piece of fabric that was used for arm-patches on the new combat clothing known as 'Army Combat Uniforms'. It also had a new pattern, which was a gray-sand oriented pixilated camouflage that didn't really work anywhere despite being called the Universal Camouflage Pattern.

Rodent himself was from the SAS, and he, was chosen to lead these specially chosen men probably into their own deaths.

Around 1800 Hours that day the Muslim prayer calls began to be heard by the five operators. The azan was called out via the mosque's tower for it was time for maghrib; the fourth prayer of the day in the Muslim prayer cycle. The azan was a beautiful set of prayers and callings towards the Muslims to pray, like bells on Sunday churches. The difference was the azan was done five times a day and it was done by a specific person chosen for the task called the mu'azin. While they wondered what the words the azan said, Rodent was watching the wrecked entrance of the once-hotel complex, which was bordered by the gray sky that summed up that afternoon.

The sun began to set; and it caused the sky to become a gradient of gray and orange. The late afternoon winter sky in Afghanistan was gray, and the orange came from the large, raging sun that was setting down on a very slow but beautiful pace. As he looked out into the gray-lined sky his radio beeped. He pressed a button on the radio and his commander's voice broke the beautiful voice of the azan and breathtaking sight of the sunset. "Alpha Six, this is Warlord. How copy, over?" his commander's solid voice came out of his headset, and weirdly gave Rodent a surge of sudden relief.

"Warlord this is Alpha Six, Solid Copy, over." Rodent was a London Englishman, and therefore had an English accent.

"Six, SitRep, over." The commander, A.K.A Warlord, replied with the usual static in the background.

"Six is sitting on their arses on the same position as two days before. Nothing has changed, but I could confirm that the man who came here earlier said that it was tonight."

"Roger that. Just in case, Six, QRF is ready anytime. Warlord out."

C/Sgt Nolan "**Gaz**" Hemingway

22. SAS / Task Force 105

1900 Hours

"We've been here for two days. You think intel messed up again?" Ark asked, as he observed the courtyard, and Gaz slept with his helmet on. Gaz had been restlessly on watch for the last twelve hours and what he needed now was a good, cozy, three-hour sleep with his rifle off his shoulder. He hated being on watch, and he just wanted to do the shooting; Ark could do the watching and waiting, and Gaz the killing. And he would surely kill, for killing was an essential part of his life. It was simply business for Gaz, and by business it meant that, like the other operatives, what he did for work was killing.

He was a man of six feet with a robust build and a well-kept black, beard and was probably known for his union jack-strapped hat that he wore nearly all the time, except now because he wore his issued helmet.

Gaz Hemingway came from London, and joined the army when he was eighteen. Long story short he got promoted faster than usual into a sergeant and passed SAS Selection and became an SAS Trooper. Years serving as a sniper and marksman with the Parachute Regiment and SAS had made him a hard man, and a cold killer. There weren't many killers in the forces as cold and calm as Sergeant Nolan Hemmingway, and that was why he was here. That was why he's in this Task Force, to kill _important_ enemies of the state. He had his eyes closed and tried not to reply Ark's question with words, instead he did with a grunt. He tried to sleep.

His M24 sniper rifle was set next to him, put on a wall as he rested. The rifle was a part of him, and when he rested, so did the rifle. But then an arrangement of small stones fell onto his tan Kevlar helmet and the simple notion woke him up. He walked up to Ark, who was observing the courtyard between the two buildings. "What the hell happened?" and Ark turned away from his rangefinder binoculars. "Oh so you weren't sleeping."

Rodent joined. "You're getting jumpy, Gaz. Nothing's happened." His voice could be heard from his headphones. He seemed to have heard the conversation because Gaz's radio was constantly on.

"You should turn off your radio when you sleep."

Gaz turned his head, rifle in his hands, towards Rodent's building, but he couldn't see the man. He was so well hidden, not even his friends could see him. "Roger that, Rod. You got confirmation on when they're gonna come?"

"Negative. The hajji that came here was saying that they're coming later tonight. Just to remind you, today's Saturday, so we'll give them a Saturday night beating."

Gaz chuckled. "Shame it's not Friday. They won't be saying TGIF."

Gaz turned, only to hear Ark say "Thank _Allah_ it's Friday. Bloody Hajjis."

Rodent replied with a small laugh. "Keep your guard on."

But then, not more than a minute later, Rodent came up on the radio with a rush on his voice, with the sound of engines and moving trucks in the background. "Shit, We've got badguys passing through my backdoor. Two armed trucks with armed militants and one SUV. Seems like that's our guy."

And Gaz heard something that sounded like multiple car engines and wheels going over dirt. He picked himself up and slid under another window. He peeked out of that window and he saw three vehicles: Two armed pickup trucks with Light Machineguns attached on their backs with armed militants manning them, and then a single, white sedan between the pickups. The sedan was being escorted by the two trucks, and the two trucks brought a load of more than a dozen heavily armed insurgents. They were moving quickly towards the courtyard. "I've got visual on another one. White sedan, two techs with mounted LMGs. Approximately fifteen insurgents on their backs. These are our guys."

"Roger I got eyes on it." Velcro, the American Engineer, said over the radio.

Rodent joined. "So our guys are here. I'm contacting command."

"Warlord, Warlord, this is Alpha Six Actual. We have visuals of enemy technicals with approximately a combined force of over fourty militia. Tell QRF to go now. We'll be going hot in a while. Over."

"Roger that, Six. If condition is impossible for them to be captured, execute Plan B. QRF's callsign is Dagger. ETA is Fifteen Mikes. Out."

And Plan B, was to kill.

"You heard 'em Gaz. If the shooting starts before the QRF comes," Rodent's voice came via his headphones. "You're to shoot."

"Roger that." Gaz grinned, for he was a cold killer with a cold and dangerous gun. And he knew he did not need a silencer for this, because the sound of the rifle would echo all around the hotel complex. Gaz turned to Ark. "Spot 'em for me, mate."

"Roger." The spotter nodded.

The two now lied down next to each other. Gaz with his sniper rifle, and Ark with his laser rangefinder.

Gaz pulled the bipod on his rifle and set up his position on one of the many breaches in the building walls. He went onto his scope. Wind was nill that evening and that would make his job easier; he browsed the courtyard with his scope.

Militants were dismounting from the trucks but some stayed to man the machineguns. They wore all kind of desert garments, which had straps of magazine-placeholders and grenades on their bodies. Some militants wore camouflage pants and hats but most wore their desert cowls and keffiyehs while carrying their famed weapon: the AK. Though not all carried AKs, it was a weapon of preference for AQ and Taliban fighters. Some carried civilian MP5s or Uzis, some even carried 'ancient' weapons like the Lee Enfield; but most had their AKs ready on the long leather straps that were slung around their shoulders. There were a total of fifteen men from those first two vehicles alone, and who they were guarding, Gaz thought, must be someone important. Someone very important. "They've stopped. You seeing this, Rod?"

"Roger." Rodent said. "All sights on the bad-guys, lads."

"They're going in your area, Gaz. Eyes open." Rodent said. Another convoy rolled and it was the convoy Rodent saw earlier. It seemed to bring more men since there were no machineguns on their backs. The Black SUV in the middle stopped, and soon after, its doors opened and a man, very westernly dressed, went out of the car with two escorts- both in suits- walking behind him. They carried more 'black' weapons- MP7s, Gaz could see through his scope, and this guy, must be someone really goddamn important dressing all-black in suit and tie like that.

"Rodent, I need an ID on the one with the suit." He zoomed in with his scope and could see the man's scarred face. He had black hair and a large nose, with a seemingly sinistral look that was caused by his thick Arabic eyebrows.

"That's Abdul Razak… Our Ba'athist." Rodent said as the black-suited man was halfway through the courtyard. The two parties were supposed to meet at the 3-way intersection at the end of the two buildings, and the three HVTs would be target practice for Gaz if it was an assassination mission. But it wasn't.

"If I could just take him out, all our worries would be over in seconds." Gaz said.

"And how in bleeding hell do you suppose are we going out of this complex? City's maybe ours but the suburbs and villages? That's AQ territory, Gaz." Rodent's voice was mixed with radio static.

"QRF?"

"QRF would pull out on the first sight of failure."

"Thanks for reminding me, Rod." Gaz said.

"Shift your scope to the white car. They're going out."

Gaz shifted his scope towards the white sedan. Two able-looking fellows, both in desert garments and thick beards, unarmed, walked into the middle of the courtyard to talk with the suited man, Razak. Gaz couldn't see their faces for they faced the other side, but he could see the Ba'athist's face large and clear.

"We've got a possible ID for Omar Ataf and Abu Youssef" Rodent said. Omar Ataf was the AQ man, while Abu Youssef was the Taliban. The team had seen that the Taliban and the AQ were closely associated, and that the AQ were spread wide across the country.

Rodent went on to command. "Warlord, Warlord, Alpha Six. We've got a possible ID for Razak, Omar Ataf, and Abu Youssef. How copy, over?"

"Solid copy, Alpha Six. Good work."

"What's the ETA on Dagger? Over."

"Five minutes, over."

"Roger that, Warlord. Tell them to hurry up I think these guys are brokering a deal."

As Rodent and _Warlord_ had their conversation Gaz could see that the two sides had met and were having a conversation. They seemed like good friends, and when they had reached a certain part, Abdul Razak raised an arm and one of his men opened the back of the black SUV. Razak's vested men in desert garments scrambled to take a dozen in-suitcase packages and put it next to Razak, while one of Razak's bodyguards was given one. The conversation continued, with Gaz obviously unable to hear it, and Razak told his man to open the suitcase and show what was inside it. And so he released the double locks and opened it.

And Gaz, seeing through his scope, was shocked.

"You seeing this, Ark?"

"Yeah." The spotter replied.

What Gaz saw was not just a set of high-tech, military-level high-explosive bombs; it was a small tank that had the designation of WP. White Phosphorus or Willie Pete as it was usually called, was a type of smoke that could cripple and burn human skin and decimate the person into a burning body. If WP was set in an IED (Improved Explosive Device) along with a high explosive bomb or simply released, could burn an entire block of human beings. Gaz imagined if it was put into a civilian environment and its death-bringing smoke was released - the casualties would be immense. And Iraq had this; and the team, he thought, had to stop it.

Gaz could see the Iraqi Razak raise his arm again, and a man handed over another suitcase. And this suitcase was colored green. A black-suited assistant opened the suitcase and revealed its hold: a green-white tank. Gaz did not know what it was, but it seemed like having a corrosive stamp on it, and that, surely was, something worse than Willy Pete. Gas, perhaps? Still! Even a simple bomb could kill hundreds of civilians, especially things that were traded in secretive circumstances such as this.

"Velcro, you seeing this?" Gaz asked Velcro via radio, for he was the team engineer. "Willie-fucking-Pete, mate."

Velcro, as the team engineer and explosives expert, replied. "Roger. I'm seeing it too. They crazy or some sort? Trying to release Willie Pete on civilians?" Velcro was American so his accent was different. He had a handsome voice and too, handsome looks.

"They took down WTC, and tried to crash a plane on the Pentagon." Rodent joined. "Two-thousand plus were killed. According to my experience we're supposed to expect they'd do this to their own civilians. Or worse, our bases. I'm warning command. Gaz, Ark, take camera shots. This is getting fucked up."

"Roger that." Ark said, and took out a digital camera out of his pocket as he maintained prone position. He took his camera behind his binoculars so that it could zoom in, and took pictures of what he could get from the exchange: the WP, the unknown Gas tanks, the Iraqi, the Taliban…

"Warlord! This is Alpha Six! Code Red! I say again, Code Red!" Rodent warned over the radio. "They've got Whiskey-Mike-Delta, I say again, they've got Whiskey-Mike-Delta!"


	3. Chapter 1 - Part 2

**_Gaz_**

_1915 Hours_

_Stay cool, Gaz._ He said to his-self as he looked towards the meeting through his scope. These guys were mad, Gaz thought, bloody mad, trying to use a weapon that's use was banned by the UN. "World's getting mad, I say." Ark said, both heard by Gaz with and without the radio.

"It's always been mad, Ark, just not this mad. Bleeding hell. Willie Pete. Rodent, permission to take the shot!" Gaz panicked.

"Negative, Gaz." Rodent said over the radio. "You know the RoE[1] on this. We can't shoot until they've shot us."

"Fuck, sir. Give me a chance to take the bloody shot. We already know what they have!"

"Calm down, Gaz. Calm down. Be bloody patient, sergeant!"

Gaz took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Sweat was trailing down his face as he imagined all those innocent people die through White Phosphorus. "Roger that, sir." He said and he took off his helmet. The helmet made his shots less accurate and it itched sometimes; so instead he took his green union-jack cap from behind and put it on backwards.

He looked towards the meeting through his scope. They were still talking, but behind them one of the Al-Qaeda militants was shouting orders to his men to go towards the two buildings and check them out. Several Taliban and AQ scrambled as the insurgent's petty officers shouted orders for them to kill any 'heathen' coalition soldiers in the area. Gaz began to sweat through the abnormal heat, but he was calm.

"They know we're here." Gaz said over the radio. The Taliban and Al-Qaeda were scrambling towards the two buildings and he had to do something.

Rodent swore on the radio, and decided to contact command. "Warlord, This is Alpha Six. We've been compromised; I say again, we've been compromised! Warn Dagger that the LZ is hot. Say again, LZ is hot!" he paused for a while, and calmed himself. "Gaz," Rodent called, calmly.

"Take the shot."

"Yes, sir." And Gaz smiled. Half-a-dozen Taliban were running towards his building, trying to discover who - or what - was inside it. But Gaz, already had one of the targets in his sights. He just had to squeeze the trigger. "Taking down Omar Ataf."

"Roger." Rodent replied, and on that confirmation, Gaz and Ark went deep into their scopes; Ark his rangefinder binoculars and Gaz his sniper.

"Wind is low. One mile per hour. Two Hundred and Fifty Meters. No shifting required to score a kill." Ark said.

The two lay next to each other. A sniper had to have a spotter, and a sniper wouldn't shoot straight without the spotter, especially when given tasks that involved high value or long range targets. A spotter's task was to assist the sniper in giving details on his surroundings. A sniper could doit himself, but a sniper had to concentrate on killing the target with this rifle, while the spotter was the one who assisted sniper in doing it: Spotting the target, counting the wind, counting the range, counting bullet fall. And that is why they were issued with rangefinder binoculars. The sniper and spotter were best friends and could not do their respective tasks without each other.

"Taking the shot." Rodent had his sights onto the man. He zoomed in. He wasn't moving and a still target was easier to shoot than a moving target, and thank God for that, Gaz thought. _No wind, this should be easy._ Omar Ataf wasn't a tall person, nor had he a muscular build. His beard was long and thick, Gaz could even see it from behind. And Gaz, sure to shoot, took a long breath.

He held it.

His weapon was steady, and he had reached the point of focus right between calm and anger, and with this, he could shoot any target. He hesitated and released his breath, and took a longer one for one last time; and without thinking, he squeezed the trigger.

A large, echoing sound came out of his M24 Sniper Rifle, as the bullet's chamber was ignited and released from the barrel, flying at high velocity, spinning in the air and finally, blood was spilled. Or splattered. The man fell as the back of his head was blown violently by the hollow-point 7.62x51mm bullet. His brains went all over the place, and the man next to him, which was Abu Youssef, had a piece of it and a pint of blood all over his clothes. Omar Ataf died before he reached the ground.

The Taliban fighters scrambled and ran towards cover. None of them saw the suppressed muzzle flash and none of them fired even suppressing shots. They only heard the sound of the gun, and the sight of steel destroying flesh and bone into shreds of tissue and brain. And the Taliban ran to attack.

"Gaz, take down the ones heading towards our building. Velcro, on me- Chuc, keep on third floor." Rodent, calmly over the radio.

"We're not shooting the big guys?"

"Wound them." Rodent replied.

"Yes, sir." And Gaz went back into his scope. The officials had taken cover behind the vehicles and men were scrambling forward to take out the five men. It was beginning to get late, and Gaz decided to activate his thermal scope. So he clicked a switch on his scope and suddenly the world became blue and people- both friend and foe- turned into a colour of yellowish-red. He could see the heads of the hiding enemies that were taking cover behind the trucks and sedans. He shifted his scope, seeing that the WMDs were still in place and were not being taken anywhere.

"Dagger, this is Six. What's your ETA? Over." Said Rodent.

"Two mikes. We're at full speed. Hold out there" The helicopter rotors could be heard in the background as Dagger spoke.

"Roger. Out." Rodent replied solidly.

Ark was in his laser rangefinder binoculars. "Razak's taking cover behind one of his vehicles! You got FMJ?"

"Sure do." Gaz went out of his scope and took off the current magazine. He reached for one of the magazines on his vest and pulled out a magazine that had white texts saying 'FMJ' which meant that Full Metal Jackets- or armour-piercing bullets- were inside that magazine.

Gaz loaded his rifle and went back into the scope. He aimed several inches lower on the car's body to shoot Razak's leg whilst not killing him. "Keep them busy! I'm taking the shot!" Gaz shouted over the radio.

He took a heavy breath.

And he took the shot.

_Rodent_

_1918 Hours_

Rodent and Velcro were rushing downstairs to get a clearer shot on the enemy. They (the enemy) were scrambling and snipers relatively got easy kills during scrambles. But the HVTs were taking cover and the team on the other building had to keep the insurgents busy- by drawing their fire- so Gaz wouldn't be discovered and would wound the HVTs properly without killing them and by not getting shot at by the seemingly enraged enemy, who had just lost their commander.

They reached the second floor door and stacked up near it. Rodent put his ear on the door and could hear AK fire from inside it. He guessed that the fighters were not shooting at Gaz, who was neatly hidden within the ruined building.

"Gaz are you taking fire?" He whispered to the radio but nobody replied. "Gaz?" "Fuck.."

"I'm taking the shot!" he could hear Gaz's voice shouting from the radio and a while later sniper fire could be heard. He must be shooting Razak, Rodent thought. The fighters behind the door kept shooting and Rodent heard one of them shouting in Pashto. "What does that mean?" Velcro whispered. His voice was covered by the heavy gunfire.

"Sniper." Rodent replied. "Bang-bang ready." He slid his M4A1 Carbine round his back and pulled out his silenced pistol.

Rodent was on the left side on the door and Velcro his opposite. He gestured numbers to Velcro with his hands. Three, two, one they said. Rodent half-opened the door, and Velcro threw in the flashbang grenade. In three seconds the grenade exploded and released a large array of light and sound, blinding and deafening the enemy inside, and Rodent shoved the door open to see four surprised and blinded insurgents, still with their weapons, turning around towards the door to see who in hell threw that flash grenade towards them.

They were deafened and blinded, and Rodent and Velcro, in a split second, cleared the room. Rodent, armed with his silenced pistol, took two on the left and Velcro took quick bursts with his M4A1 Carbine to the two on the right. "Clear." Velcro said.

"Take positions." Rodent's calm voice said to Velcro, and he soon took position on one of the windows. Rodent looked out of the windows and saw Gaz's position. He waved towards Ark, who seemed to be looking at the wasted window that was once full of Taliban fighters but now cleared after a large bang of sound and light.

"Thanks, Cap." Ark said to Rodent via radio. "No problem." He replied. "Sitrep on Razak?"

"Shot." Gaz replied coldly.

A burst of AK-fire hit Velcro's window frame. "Taking fire!" he shouted and Rodent quickly slid next to the man. "We can't fire in this condition, Rod. They know we're here." Velcro said. Rodent looked at the door. _And they could be coming up any second._

"Velcro put a claymore outside the door." Rodent said.

"Yes, sir" Velcro stood up and went to the door. He put it on the door's outside so that they would not misstep.

Rodent took fire. He was taking cover under the wall and he knew that engagements like this could last for hours. He went on one of his knees and randomly shot his M4 without going out from his cover. "Gaz, I need that arsehole down!"

"Roger. Taking him down."

Rodent took more fire and replied it with his M4. "Anybody who goes to my place, remember, there's gonna be a claymore set on the door!"

Gaz took his shot and Rodent could hear the sound of his sniper rifle. He was still taking fire, though, but the sniper fired twice more and he was under fire no longer. Instead, Rodent peeked, the insurgents were shooting at Gaz. For the first time that day an insurgent went up the HMG mounted on his truck and fired it. Gaz was heavily pinned down.

"Shifting positions. Somebody take out that bastard." Gaz said.

Rodent went out of his cover and aimed through the scope on his M4. The machinegunner was busy, and he was not aware of the enemy in the other building. And he's going to pay for that.

Rodent fired a shot onto the machinegunner, but it missed, and hit the truck. He swore, because people would know that he was here. So he took three quick shots onto the machinegunner, who quickly fell off the gun. "Machinegunner down!"

"Captain!" Chuc's voice could be heard over the radio. "I've got half-a-dozen badguys verging onto your position!"

"Roger that, Chuc. We've got that covered." Rodent grinned and looked at Velcro. "Velcro, on the door. Full automatic. Now."

"Roger!" Velcro ran towards the wall and put his back against it. He switched his weapon's firing mode from semi-automatic to full-auto.

Rodent fired several shots outside the window before going to the wall near the door. He stood several paces away from the door so he wouldn't get any part of the explosion. As the gunfire towards them faded Rodent could hear footsteps just outside their door. The men who went up the stairs were speaking in Pashto and when they went onto the door they seemed to argue at who was to go into the door first. "Bleeding bastards don't know what's on the other side, eh?" Rodent said to the American, who grinned as he held his M4A1 steadily. Shouts were heard and a man kicked the door, but didn't seem to realize that he triggered the claymore. So the door exploded.

The door was now a mixture of rocks, two dead bodies, a bit of smoke, and surprised and panicked gunfire from the insurgents. One of their friends had gone too close to the door and stepped on the claymore and now the wooden door splintered and disintegrated with the first man being violently torn into pieces by the land mine. The wall next to the door had also been crippled, but Rodent was far enough from being hit by anything.

In a split-second, slow-motion adrenaline, he slipped out of cover and went into the stairway, to see another dead man and a heavily wounded fighter, who was lying on the wall near a staircase. He was saying prayers to himself and Rodent could see that his stomach had been cut open by shrapnel and his guts were spilling violently out of his body. Blood was all over the place. "Velcro, go downstairs. Check on that other bastard." Velcro nodded and Rodent went to the dying man.

"This is war, mate." He said in Arabic. He pulled out his pistol. "You're going to heaven." He shot the man in the head as a sign of mercy, and followed Velcro downstairs. He went over the radio "Chuc, we've cleared the bottom floor. You're clear."

"Roger that." the medic replied.

Rodent went downstairs with his M4's butt on his shoulder. Before reaching the bottom floor he could hear grunts and swears in both English and Pashto. He hurried down the stairs and could see that Velcro and the last fighter who went upstairs were having a fist fight. Rodent, playfully, said. "Sorry, Velcro" and Pop, Pop, Pop! He released a burst of fire onto the insurgent. The man was blown away as the 5.56mm bullets went into his body, and died in relative silence with eyes open and blood trailing out of his mouth.

Rodent went onto the wall and peeked around it, seeing that his previous position, Chuc's position, and Gaz's position were taking heavy fire from both the militants and the mounted machinegun. "How long is the QRF are gonna get here?" asked Velcro, after the smaller man had cleared the dust off his pants. Velcro had a very sophisticated look after wearing a masker with his goggles put on his eyes. He said it made him look more intimidating towards the enemy, because, the enemy would always love to shoot handsome people.

"They said fifteen minutes." Rodent replied.

"It _is _fifteen minutes!" Velcro said.

And then, suddenly he heard the sound of a helicopter's rotors, and his radio sounded; "Alpha Six, this is Dagger. We're going in low. Danger close, I say again, danger close. Out."

"Roger."

Rodent could see the sky from his cover; and suddenly the black figure of an MH-6 Little bird hovered above him and released a tense volley of minigun fire from both of its flanks. The sound of the miniguns were tense, and the little bird helicopter released so many bullets that a building behind the enemy convoy crippled and went down. People shouted in Arabic and Pashto and were scrambling madly whilst being simultaneously cut down either by the hovering littlebird or the elite Delta and SEAL snipers on the two circling Black Hawks. The little bird was a relatively small, Multipurpose helicopter that could be used as close ground support, a special forces personnel carrier, or even a command helicopter. Though it was very identical to special-forces, its roles were so diverse you could always see a little bird in every major American operation, giving many kinds of support to all kinds of units. As the courtyard seemed to empty of living insurgents, the littlebird flew away and a Blackhawk hovered at the courtyard of dead men and ruined bodies, released two ropes and a combination of US Army Rangers and SEALs rapelled down from the helicopters. Rodent and Velcro went towards the landing area and put their hands up, signaling that they were friendly. The black hawk's propeller caused the sand into a mini storm which forced Rodent to wear his goggles.

"Rodent, most of 'em bastards are holed up on a different building just east of you. It's near the pool." Gaz radioed as they walked towards the rest of the Task Force.

"Roger that. Keep us covered from my previous building, Gaz."

"Roger that."

"Chuc, Get downstairs. We're moving in with your friends here."

"Roger that."

Then two men, dressed in the gray army uniforms the US Army typically uses, went forward to greet Rodent. One was tall like Rodent while another one was an overly robust man with a distinctive beard.

"You're Captain Wolfe?" the tall one's voice was southern, and the man had a stubble under his nose. There were the small, two-bar emblem of a captain on his helmet and Rodent was supposed to meet this man. He seemed to be the commander of the Rangers that came here.

"Yes, I am." Rodent said. The captain looked at him rather weirdly because of his well-maintained beard.

"I'm Captain Sanderson, and this is CPO Jarvis, Navy SEALs." The SEAL offered a hand to Rodent and he took it. "Glad to meet you, sir." The SEAL said.

"I was told you're to guide us." The Army Captain continued.

"Yeah, something like that. HVTs and their escorts are holed up in that building." He pointed to a building that was on the far side of the great hoteling complex. It was a building jut three stories tall and set near the hotel's swimming pool, which was now nothing but sand and dust. What the Task Force had to do was get into that building, engage the enemy at close range, and capture the HVTs. "And the WMDs?" Sanders asked.

"They're with them." Rodent replied. "We need to stop them before they use them or not we'll all be bloody dead by Willie Pete."

"We have to. We have to." Sanderson said. "Spread out!" He shouted to the thirty or somewhat men he led.

"We'll advance, Captain Sanders, and quick. Chief, you're with me."

"Roger that, sir. Boys, on me!" he shouted to his SEALs.

And they were going to take that goddamned building.

[1] RoE: Rules of Engagement or "Fire orders" determines when a serviceman could engage the enemy or not.


	4. Chapter 1 - Part 3

_Rodent_

_1928 Hours_

_Jalalabad Outskirts, Afghanistan_

It took not more than two minutes for the Rangers to split into fireteams of four. In total there were thirty-four rangers, taken from 1st Battalion, 75th Rangers, that were stationed in a staging area not far west of the City of Jalalabad. The thirty-four men, which was merely a third of what Captain Sanderson actually commanded, were specifically chosen for the Quick Reaction Force to assist in special operations. The two black hawks hovered over the hotel complex like vultures waiting for their pray, and the little bird, fitfully callsigned 'Pigeon' provided active support to the ground troops along with the black hawks. The blackhawks, embedded with the little bird, were callsigned Hotel Six-Four and Hotel Six-Two.

Rodent, Captain Sanderson, and Chief Petty Officer Jarvis stood next to each other in a makeshift observation post behind a wrecked militant truck. Gray pixel-wearing Rangers scrambled and ran in groups of four by the sidewalks and went into the alleyways as they scanned the rooftops with their weapons.

"Alright, Captain Wolfe" Sanderson said to Rodent. "The plan is to lay siege to that building with support from the air." As they talked a lieutenant passed by and shouted orders. "Move up! Fireteams! Fireteams!"

He continued. "The usual shit- while we fight our way up the goddamn street you and Jarvis blow a hole in the building's flank, get the HVTs, and call for extract. If that's not available just get back to us. I'll send a squad to help you out."

"Roger that." Rodent replied. Sanderson gave a smile to Rodent and offered his hand to the Englishman. "Goodluck, Captain." The American said.

"You too." And Rodent shook his hand and used his other hand to pat his back. As Sanderson turned away to command his troops, Rodent had a feeling that he wouldn't see the man again. But Gah, It's just a feeling that he had and feelings have a very small chance to be true.

"Let's go, Jarvis." He said to the helmet-wearing SEAL. The two turned and headed into an alleyway on the right, their men following them from behind. Jarvis, like Rodent, brought four men. All of them were dressed in ACUs, which, was for the sake of uniformity. The SEALs preferred to wear the traditional Tricolor Desert Camouflage rather than the pixilated gray ACUs which hid them more than their current camouflage.

They walked into a corner and took cover on the wall on the left. Seven men stacked up behind Rodent, and when he gestured for them to move forward, the 5 SEALs steadily, with their weapons ahead of them, dashed forward and turned left only to see nothing. They continued walking for around a hundred meters within that maze of alleys with the same outcome for every turn and corner, until the first gunshots were heard. "Shots fired, shots fired!" A ranger shouted over the radio, and Rodent could hear gunfire in the background. Unpanicked shouts of orders were common during war, and he could hear lots of them in that transmission. "Battle's started." Rodent stated, and the other seven special operatives heard. And smiled.

As they continued their way through that maze, they met a three-way intersection. Gunfire was heavy in the background, and the sun was out of the sky. Rodent turned and saw the seven men – three were his and four Jarvis', including Jarvis himself – were ready with their weapons, and had followed him in a close-knitted single file formation that was used to scan alleyways. "Alright, Jarvis, time to split up. You go right, I go left." He looked at the bearded man. "NVGs are on. Fire when fired upon and try using silencers; I don't want them to get near us when we blow the side. Velcro, Chuc, on me." The last two words were meant for his two deltas.

"See ya there, Jarvis." Rodent said.

"Yes, sir. Alright! On me, we're taking right!" the four men under Jarvis soon went into a file of their own and went into the alleyway in their right, sticking towards the wall as they moved. Moments later, the SEALs were gone, and Rodent decided for his men to move out.

"Alright. NVGs on." Rodent said. The team reached for their patterned bags on their backs and took it off to find the Night Vision Goggles stowed deep within them. Except Velcro though, he had already attached his on his helmet. After less than a minute, Rodent and Chuc attached the double tube-like gadgets on their helmets. The three pulled them down simultaneously, and the world became green.

Rodent's world became 20,000 shades of green. Humans were colored a lighter shade of green, and all the others, except lights and flashes, were in darker shades. He realised how unused he was to it. _Normal eyes are better, But this would do._ He noticed the long-ranging laser that was projected from the square rifle laser, called the PEQs, attached to his M4's siderails. The others also had it, and so precision targeting became easier. He slung his backpack back on, and it was time to get medieval.

"Let's move out." He said, and the three- Him up front, Chuc in the middle, and Velcro in the back- walked by the walls and checked corner by corner, only to see nothing but dust and emptiness. And so, they continued moving.

Towards the building.

**_Gaz_**

_1934 Hours_

Gaz and Ark had positioned themselves on a breach in Rodent's previous building, and Gaz was grateful because he could see everything in the complex from here. From the large breach in the wall he could see a platoon of United States Army Rangers moving up along the sidewalks and some into the alleys, and he could also see several insurgents waiting for them on the far side of the road. Some were also on the rooftops, and Gaz had to warn the others about this. He went over the radio. "All units, this is Alpha Six Bravo. Be advised; I've spotted tangos on the rooftops and around two dozen Taliban waiting by the building entrance. Proceed with caution."

American rogers and affirmatives went over the line. Gaz smiled. "If you see any sniper fire from the south, it's friendly. I say again, all sniper fire from the south is friendly. Out."

Just moments after his last message Rodent called in. "Gaz, sitrep from above?"

"Nill other than the ones I've said."

"No, I meant the view." Rodent replied, with a chuckle. "One sight, huh? Wonder why the Russians took this down."

It was true, though, for the ruins were amazingly designed and strategically positioned. Maybe the mujahedeen of old used this place as a base and were utterly destroyed by the Russians. Or maybe something was hidden within it? None of it was Gaz's business, so he threw the thought away. For his business was to kill.

"Jolly good. Where are you? Over." Gaz replied with his usual cold London accent.

"You see the three idiots stacking up on a wall? Some twenty degrees from where you are. I'm the one whose waving at you. two hundred meters."

Gaz shifted his thermal scope and saw three men. Orange, they were colored, for they were warm-blooded and living. Blue and black served as the wall in their background. They were armed and Night vision goggles were put on their eyes so they looked rather like robots than humans. Two of them seem to have beards and the one on the left was waving towards his position. "Roger." Gaz grinned. "I see you."

"Keep an eye on the SEALs. They went right. Rodent out."

"Gaz." Ark called to the sniper. "We've got a kiss-arse. Your eleven o'clock. Rooftop. Four hundred meters." He was using his laser rangefinder. The wind had picked up and Ark confirmed that it was pretty fast; around 15 mph and that required some weapon zeroing, (Adjusting the weapon in order to aim normally in an un-normal condition. It is done by adjusting the scope's height.) which Gaz had done before going first time into his scope. But he had yet to fire a cold shot. A cold shot was a shot by a sniper to test the accuracy of his gun, and he had to take one right now if he were to estimate the true bullet drop and wind speed, or not, his shots would all mess up.

"Copy. I see him." It was a man, a yellow-orange coloured man through his thermal. "Taking the cold shot."

"Roger. Lower your gun a bit. We zeroed in on six hundred meters; he's only at four hundred."

"Copy that." And Gaz rotated the zoom on the top of his 12x scope, and he could now see that the man was holding a Russian light machinegun. He wore some kind of body armour, but it was awkwardly boxy from afar. A small LED-like flash was beeping out of his armour, and Gaz realised, that the man had a bomb attached to himself. "Fuck, suicide bomb. Get all units on this."

"Roger. All units, this is Alpha Six Bravo!" Ark spoke via radio. "We've got several suicide bombers on the rooftops! Scan your roofs, I repeat, scan your roofs!"

"Taking the shot." Gaz said. He went deeper into his scope and lowered his gun for a quarter-inch.

"Lightmachinegunner. Fourhundred meters." Ark said solidly. "Fire, fire, fire."

And Gaz, took a long breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet could not be seen in the night, neither could he witness the usual gore of the sniper rifle round through the thermal sight. What he could see now was that his bullet had hit the man's foot and the man, in pain, fell from the small supermarket-like building into the main street. Two four-man fireteams, one on each side of the street, were walking towards that direction and they saw the fallen man. Nobody dare went close to the man, having being given a warning of suicide bombers. A range of 50 meters was kept, but they, through their nightvision, could see the man struggle to do something with his body. The man, from Gaz's scope, suddenly nodded up, raised his hand, which was holding a wired detonator, and pressed it. "BOMB!" a ranger shouted via radio.

BOOM! A yellow-red explosion from the man went up in the middle of the street, causing a ranger to be thrown away by the blast onto the sidewalk. Gaz went out of his scope to see the natural red explosion that caused the buildings in the bomb's radius to cripple. The building the man stood on was destroyed by the blast, and had now became a combination of rubble, rock, and possibly the not vaporized guts of the suicide bomber. "Holy shit…"

Rodent was surprised by the explosion sound and contacted Gaz. "What the hell was that?"

"Suicide bomb. These guys are serious." Gaz replied. But suddenly, suddenly, something that didn't even went through his mind, appeared right 600 meters ahead of him. A large band of Taliban fighters- nearly thirty men- appeared from the alleyways and swarmed on the sides of the street and outnumbered the two ranger fireteams, which were taking cover behind ruined cars, by many. "Fuck, there's too many of them! This is Dagger Two-One Bravo we need assistance, right now! Fuck… Fuck!" the sergeant leading the fireteam shouted over the radio. Static was heavy and gunfire muffled some of the words.

"Rodent," Gaz called the man.

"Yeah- I know. I'm helping them out." The London man said over the radio. And Gaz could see them advance. "Cover me."

And so Rodent lunged Into the Fire.

_Rodent_

_1934 Hours_

"Move it! Move it!" Rodent shouted. They were now running through the alleyway to help the two outnumbered fireteams, which were just ahead of them. They could see the yellow bullet tracers from the alleyway's exit, and some hit the building that formed the alleyway.

"Stack up there. Velcro, on point." he pointed to the wall.

"Wilco [1]" The army engineer replied, and he dashed to the end of the wall. He peeked to see what was beyond that wall, and soon, in half-panic he turned back. "Shit." Velcro said. The three had stacked up on the wall, with Rodent in the middle.

"How many?"

"More than a dozen. Some more behind them, they're going to try flank them."

And we are in the way, Rodent thought. "Chuc, get some birds here."

"Yes, sir." The medic replied.

"Pigeon! Pigeon! This is Alpha Six. We're taking heavy fire from two dozen hostiles and we need air support! Do you copy?"

"Roger that Alpha Six." Pigeon's – The little bird helicopter- voice was a steady one.

"We'll mark targets with RP [2]" Rodent said slowly, and Chuc repeated to the radio. "We will mark targets with Romeo-Papa! How copy, over?"

"Roger Alpha Six. We are on standby. Lay down smoke for signaling and we'll be there instantly. Over."

"Roger." Chuc replied. "Out."

Rodent pat Velcro. "Velcro, RP." He solidly said. Velcro took one Red Smoke Grenade from a socket in his interceptor body armor and gave the cylindrical, red-edged, smoke grenade to his leader. "We need to tell those rangers we're here." He looked to his men.

"I'll go." Chuc said. "Cover me."

Rodent nodded. He looked at Chuc. "You ready?"

"Yes, sir."

He turned away and shouted. "Covering fire!" Rodent crouched next to Velcro, who opened fire with his M4 on the enemy. They were all green from his nightvision, when he peeked, but at least he could see them clearly. Each shot was taken with more precision, due to the targeting laser that was projected from the gun, and the coolest thing of it that it was only visible when somebody wore night vision. The rangers must have seen the green lasers because they also wore NVGs. "Go!" Rodent shouted at Chuc. And as Velcro fired, Chuc ran towards the car the four rangers were taking cover behind.

After a moment of suppressing fire, Chuc talked via comms. "They know we're here. They're gonna cover you when you get that RP on the enemy." He said to Rodent.

"Roger that."

Rodent put his M4A1 on the ground and held the RP with both hands. The left was used to pull the pin and the right was used to throw the grenade. He took a deep breath. Some Insurgents had sharp eyes, though most were half-wits with guns and tribal rules who fought for a pretty much unreal cause, in Rodent's opinion. But Rodent feared the bastards, whose will to fight was comparable to legit professional soldiers. And these guys were guards to an HVT- these guys would be better than the usual sandhead lot. Rodent ignored the thought and shouted. "Covering fire!" and fire from both Velcro's M4 and the combination of carbines and a M249 SAW machinegun from the fireteams ignited and the enemy was pinned down.

Rodent rushed to Velcro's outer side that had no cover. He took a deep breath, pulled the pin, drew back the smoke grenade, and hurled it towards the enemy. Heave! He thought as he threw the grenade, which was as heavy as a small stone.

"Pigeon, Pigeon! This is Alpha Six" Rodent heard from the radio after he returned to cover. Chuc's voice, it was. "RP has been released. I repeat, RP released! Do you see it? It's north of the large intersection!"

"Roger, Six, we see it. Sending in a gunship towards your position. Standby. Danger close. Out."

Then a very awesome voice, backed by static and the sound of a helicopter's rotors, could be heard over the radio. "This is Hotel Six-Four. Going in low, going in low. Out."

And the large rotors of the Black Hawk muffled the sound of fire. Hotel Six-Four, a Black Hawk from the US 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, or SOAR, hovered several tens of feet above the ground and unleashed a volley of fire from its Delta/SEAL snipers and its minigun. The minigun's sound was very fast and the high rate of accurate fire decimated the two dozen Taliban. In addition the two buildings that formed their flanks were crippled and destroyed by the High Explosive rounds released from the miniguns and they soon crumbled as the Black Hawk ceased firing. Hotel Six-Four hovered away back to vulturing the hotel complex, and the two fireteams cheered as the Black Hawk flew away.

"Much obliged, Hotel Six-Four. Much obliged." Chuc said over the radio. The pilot replied with a roger that.

The three operatives continued to their main objective: blowing up the eastern walls to carve an entrance and extract the HVTs while the Taliban were dealt with the rangers, and after that air strike, Robert thought, half the Taliban present would have probably been killed.

So they shifted left and right in the empty alleyways, going further away from the loud gunfire from their left. Despite that strafing run the rangers still faced a considerable number of insurgents, who were holed up in the housing villas and alleyways, trying to take down as many infidel American soldiers as they could before finally succumbing to the quality bullets of the infidels. Or maybe they could hold a grenade and explode themselves near a group of panicking American soldiers, and the entire fireteam would be decimated. And that would bring them straight to heaven, for they have completed their jihad.

It was now a quarter to eight. And Alpha Six rushed towards the building.

[1] Wilco: Will comply

[2] RP: Red Phosphorus smoke grenade. Unlike White Phosphorus it doesn't burn, instead it is used for signaling targets.


End file.
